


Encore, Je Retourne Au Orlais

by Grandeur (Megane)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Acrobatics, Agender Character, Betrayal, Bog Unicorn, Custom Class, Custom Companions, Demons, Descent into Madness, Fade Magic, Fade Rifts, Mage Qunari, Manipulation, Mutation, My Inquisitor Still Has No Name, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Phobias, Possession, Rituals, Side Quests Gone Wrong, Spells & Enchantments, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15216938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Grandeur
Summary: After so long, Isiah returns to Orlais to finish a mission they were given. However, perhaps as the way their life goes, it's not quite as simple as that.





	1. Chapter 1

     “Welp, I’m heading home.”

     “Home?

The word jumped in the Inquisitor’s voice like a hiccup. Isiah found it adorable. They reached up to adjust the wide brim hat on their head. Cole gave them a look from across the room before adjusting his hat as well. Isiah smirked and focused back on the Herald.

     "Yep. I’ll probably be gone for a few days, couple of weeks.”

     “It’s a long trip back to Orlais,” Varric said. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of his tankard. “Think you’ll be alright on your own?”

     Isiah clicked their tongue and cooed softly. “Aww, worried about me?”

     Varric laughed. “That’s like fretting after a predator. Just asking if you want some company, Leaf,” he said before taking a drag from his tankard.

     Isiah hummed and slowly began pacing at the end of the table. “Hmmm. Well, you know I would die to have you at my side again, but I think the Inquisitor could use all the help they need here.”

     The Inquisitor piped up and scratched their temple. “That’s… not entirely true. I’m sure I can spare a few people if you need or want any help.”

Isiah feigned thought as they paced. The sides of their hat hid their profile when they turned, and there was a small smile on their lips as they thought. It might be nice traveling with someone again. So long as that person wasn't overly fond of Orlais. Home though it might have been, Isiah couldn't stand being in the company of people who fawned over the nation. When they finally stopped, they were standing with the table, the Herald, and Varric to their right.

     “Alright,” Isiah said. “If you can spare anyone, I’ll be glad to have the company. It does get _boring_ on the road.”

     “Anything else we can arrange for you?”

     “Oh, _Herald_. You’re just going to spoil me.” Isiah let their hands slip down off their hips. “Just get me a riding partner, and I’ll handle the rest.”

Their voice lowered into a soothing, almost scratchy voice. The Inquisitor nodded, finished off their drink, and stood from the table. Varric, on the other hand, leveled Isiah with a heavy, prodding stare.

     “What’re you planning?”

     Isiah looked properly surprised, though they both knew it was a ruse. “What makes you think I’m planning something?”

     “Leaf. We’ve been through a lot of crap together. I think I’ve gotten good at noticing your tells by now.”

     “Hmph. So you say.” Isiah cocked their hip, and the clay masks clanked together like heavy chimes. Isiah removed the largest mask, scratched and featureless, from their belt. “I’ve read your books. I think my character could stand a few tweaks.”

     “Let’s just say I wrote you in a way that made you more likable to the readers.”

Isiah placed the mask on their face and moved in a more boneless state. They reached up to hold their hat on their head. With unnatural ease, they kicked into a front flip and landed on the table before squatting down in front of Varric.

     “That’s not my problem,” Isiah said, their voice raspy and echoing under the mask.

     Varric stared up at him and then sighed heavily. “You know, I shouldn’t be surprised you said that.”

     Isiah tilted their head and body to the left before reaching out to place a hand on Varric’s head. “You shouldn’t.”

They drew their hand away as they lolled completely to the left. As soon as their shoulder hit the table, they adjusted their hands on the surface and shoved off the table. They snapped their legs together as they launched backwards. They landed on their feet with their arms out and a bit of a wobble. Cole clapped from where he was, and Varric propped his head up with one hand. Isiah grabbed their hat and brought it onto their head again.

     “I think you’re in the wrong line of work,” Varric stated.

     “Hmm, entertainment is too boring,” Isiah said, flicking their hands as they walked out of the hall.

     Varric snorted a laugh before shaking his head. “Only you could say that.”

 

Isiah reached a hand to pet along the textured neck of their bog unicorn. It trotted in place before letting out an ungodly whinny. The stable hand shrank back at the noise.

     “Never was a fan of that thing,” the young man muttered to Master Dennet.

Isiah froze in place before silently whipping their attention over to the young man, who flinched again when he took notice of them. Isiah smiled under the mouthless mask and hopped up onto their mount. They adjusted themself in the saddle, deliberating making themself look busy when the stable boy said,

     “I was never really a fan of them either.”

Isiah laughed silently, but they left the boy alone for now. They’d have plans for him when they returned. Master Dennet muttered some comment in return before smacking the boy on the shoulder with a polishing rag. He walked over to Isiah and handed them a small pouch and a bottle. Isiah paid the man with a piece of gold and two coppers. They trotted away from the stables, quietly taking in the activity of the various Skyhold residents as they passed. As they passed, talk about a Warden flitted through the air in excited huffs of gossip. Isiah had heard distant tales about a Warden of note and assumed that it was the same person being talked about now in hushed admiration. Well, if their curiosity became too much, they could always ask Varric about it.

     “Isiah!” called out a voice.

Isiah halted their horse before turning towards the voice. The Inquisitor was standing on the upper level next to a figure wrapped in layers. Seeing the pair, Isiah’s interest was immediately piqued. _Now, now,_ they thought as they stared at the unknown figure, _who is this?_

They didn’t call out in response, but the Inquisitor and the mysterious figure approached of their own accord. Now that the two was closer, Isiah saw that this person was a very dark skinned Quanari with a torn right ear. Their horns were flat against the top of their head before curling into thin spirals at the very tips. The pupil of their right eye was slightly larger than the left.

Their expression? Bothered. Irritated almost. Isiah sat up a bit straighter. They liked this Qunari already.

     “Isiah, this is Eileu. Eileu, Isiah is… eccentric, but they will take care of you.”

Eileu looked up to Isiah. Their eyes were the same as rusted brass. The Qunari gave a sharp huff, forcing the scarf wrapped in front of their face to shift slightly.

     “Alright,” came the (surprisingly) deep voice. “To Orlais then?” they asked. “… Is that all?”

     “That’s all,” Isiah rasped with a dramatic bow forward. “You can rest when we get there. I just need to touch down for a while, handle some business, and then we’ll return.”

The Qunari huffed again and outstretched their left hand. They snapped, and a flair of black-blue arcane energy emitted from their fingers. There was a sharp whinny in the air. Moments later, an earth brown horse climbed its way out of the ground. Spectators all around gasped in shock, but Isiah, Eileu, and the Inquisitor made no comment in that regard.

Eileu’s mount shook itself and trotted closer. Isiah was captivated by the stallion. They reached out to touch the creature. It snorted and gave the Masqrader a look. Isiah was positively enthused.

     “We’ll return,” Eileu said to the Inquisitor, who nodded before taking a step back away from the duo.

     “Be safe.”

Isiah hummed in return before urging their mount forward. Eileu’s stallion followed with a huff, and the two beasts unleashed an auditory hell with their whinnies. Isiah laughed. The noise echoed out of their mask and twisted in the air with the hellish noises.

 

In the days that passed, the two got on as well as Isiah expected. Eileu was a very capable mage, and their weapon was positively delightful. In typical fashion, however, Isiah kept their questions to themself, only indulging in the most basic of curiosities when the two settled down to rest. Even still, the trip was pleasant. They both ate well enough when they could. A part of Isiah dreamt of a fresh, hearty meal when they got to Orlais. In the back of their mind, they could faintly remember the taste of home. They wondered if they could pick up some supplies while they were there.

     "Ever been to Orlais before?" Isiah asked as the two trotted through a quiet village.

     "Once," Eileu muttered. "Well, twice, I guess. Thanks to the Inquisitor."

Isiah chuckled with their lips closed. It felt nice to feel the cool Orlesian breeze blow against their face. They reveled in silence for a time before Eileu spoke up.

     "Where in Orlais are you from?"

     Isiah took in a deep breath through their nose. "The first home I had ever known was Montsimmard, and like many wayward souls, I found myself in Val Royeaux, and my life changed soon afterward."

     Eileu hummed. Isiah gave a little smile before looking over to them. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see my long lost home."

     "Val Royeaux or Montsimmard?"

There was a distant look in Isiah's eyes, but the smile stayed in place. They focused straight ahead and, with a small squeeze of their heels, urged their undead horse to move faster. "Either," they said breezily. Neither place sounded quite as appealing as they where they had hoped to go.

It was late evening when they trotted through Arlesans and headed down towards Val Chevin. The seaside city was quiet but capable. Isiah and Eileu abandoned their horses before entering into the city together. Isiah peered up at the night sky and felt complete. They were given looks by those closest to them—Eileu more than Isiah, of course—but no one dared to outright bother them. Isiah led the way from there. They spoke in Orelsian to various parties; sometimes, gold would exchange hands, and Eileu watched silently. Isiah flashed a smile and well-practiced laugh with a few merchants before parting.

     "What was that about?" Eileu asked.

     "Just securing us some lodgings." Isiah placed a hand on their shoulder before leading them both further into the city. They slipped a folded cloth into Eileu's left pocket. "As promised, you can relax while I get into some trouble."

     Eileu stared up at Isiah. "Don't actually get into some trouble."

     Isiah laughed warmly. "I would never~" they lied. "Oh! Can you do me a favour and hold onto this for me?" They reached up for their hat.

     Eileu looked up to their hat before focusing on the Masqrader again. "... Why?"

     "I've people to talk to, and I'd hate to lose it amongst meting all these people."

     "... It's late. Who could you possibly be talking to at this-?"

     Isiah handed over the hat with a smile. "It's Orlais, dear friend. And whatever and whenever an Orlesian wants, they plan endlessly to have. For now, there are people who need my time who have waited so very long for it already."

     Eileu sighed and took the hat, which they tucked under their arm. "Fine. It's no matter anyway."

     "None at all~!"

Once they found the proper lodgings, Isiah pulled away from Eileu and headed off in their own direction. They ran their fingers over the masks on their belt before settling for a simple one that just covered their eyes. They fitted the item over their head and tied their band under their braid. Their vision was heavily diminished with the mask on, but they moved with ease. The world pulsed under their feet as they carried forward. The air had a presence; the small shifts in the wind didn't go unnoticed. Even though they couldn't see the people around them, they could feel each individual vague presence.

 _Where are you, little lamb?_ Isiah whispered in their mind as they headed towards the port. They turned towards where human presence was thin and ended up ducking between two buildings. Their nose burned at the smell of rotten fish. Isiah reached behind their back and slipped their hands into their taloned gloves. They began their climb up the stone wall, relishing in how the stone cracked under their blades as they scrambled up the side. When they came to the top, there was a thin ripple in the world around them, and Isiah could taste the acrid weight of the Fade on their tongue.

There was layered whisper that filtered into their mind, and Isiah's head snapped over in a new direction. Energy collesced in a dark green cloud far off towards the riverside. It was faint, but Isiah could _just_ make it out. They ran along the rooftops towards the energy, towards the growing taste of sulfur and rot. They hopped down and crushed grass and rock under their boots. A second of hesitation.

No one else seemed to be nearby or take notice. Isiah ran, disappearing into the nearby treeline. They waved a hand over their face. Their features hardened for a second, and with a snap of their will, the mask they wore was replaced with another. They could see the world again. Darkness closed around them, clinging to the trees and obscuring their vision.

_Ahh...tumne._

Isiah's eyes widened before they felt a hard impact against their right side. Blunt and sudden like a club against their ribs. They bounced against the ground, but when they came to their feet, there was nothing around them. The taste of the Fade was gone, and tthe air was crisp. Isiah didn't trust it at all. They turned their hands quietly and waited a few more moments before creeping towards the trees again. The aethereal sigh tangled in their mind again. This time, Isiah felt the break in the air just in front of them. They threw themself backwards, completely abandoning grace for function. The creature before them was a tangled mass of darkness and vines. Up close, Isiah could take in the heady, earthen scent. The spirit withdrew, and Isiah tucked backwards, rolling into a crouching position.

There was a change in the atmosphere. Isiah felt as if they were close to a Fade portal, and the idea made their stomach turn. Small doses of Fadework was okay, but any more than that was an absolute no go. They didn't have much time to reflect on it. The creature came at them again. Its fist was massive, and Isiah could feel the breeze of the strike when it went past them. They jumped back and started slashing, feeling stings against their psyche with every blow they landed. They brought their claws up and slashed downward in an X-formation over their body. The creature cried in a rustle of the trees and the snapping of branches. When the noise quieted, Isiah ran their left hand over their side. They had a couple of small vials at their disposal. Now they just needed an opening.

A tree cracked suddenly. Isiah jerked their head over towards the noise, and something crawled from out of the tree trunk.

 _Ah....  Autumne,_ the creature rasped in an unnatural voice.

Isiah cocked their head suddenly, squatting down to the creature's level. _How is it that this creature knows my name?_ they wondered before clashing their claws against each other, reveling in the way the metal sang.

     "Come get me~" they hissed in a singsong tone.

The woods around them groaned, and even the trees lurched in to attack.

 

Isiah tried not to look too obvious as they limped back to the town. They had a smile on their face as the fire roared in the treelines. They pulled a lot of tricks, but they managed to keep the fire contained. For the most part, anyway. Surely, if the fire was left alone for too long, it would break outside of Isiah's barrier. They hopped over a small fence between two buildings and leaned back against a wall. They needed to catch their breath. Pain was starting to seep in everywhere—in their bones, in their head. They huffed out a laugh before placing a hand over their hip and drawing in a pained breath. Damn. It hurt to laugh.

There was a soft singing in their head, and Isiah pushed away from the wall. They weren't done yet with their side of the deal yet. They had to sneak through the shadows, avoiding crowds and gawking individuals who were woken by the fire. Isiah eventually found the home they were looking for, closer to the seashore. The front porch was stacked with several barrels and crates. The shutters of one of the windows was opened, letting in the nighttime air.

Isiah debated on how to advance. Should they knock? Should they climb in through the window? The idea of breaking and entering amused them more, but in the end, it didn't matter what they would have chosen. The front door opened, and a fisherwoman stepped out onto the front deck. Her hair was thick and tussled, but Isiah could spot the pearls and gems dotting her hair. She placed her hands on her hips and smirked at Isiah.

     "So you found it."

     Isiah reached up to tilt their mask. They looked to the woman. Not the noble he spoke with before but probably her partner. "How could you be so sure? Maybe I'm just here to deliver the bad news."

The woman leaned her head back slightly, and there was a glint to her eyes. The psychic ringing sounded off in their head again, and Isiah felt as if they were pulled forward by the chest. They leaned towards her slightly but managed to resist whatever call she was emitting. Her eyes returned to normal, and Isiah let out a soft breath.

     "Is Madamoiselle Gallante here?"

     "She's in." The woman checked her nails casually before looking to Isiah. Her eyes angled off to the side, and she turned her attention towards the fire. She chuckled. "I suspect she'll appreciate that this is finally over."

Isiah watched the woman retreat into the home before following after her themself. Stepping inside, they felt infinitely warmer. They looked around for any exits and took note of each window they saw around them. The mysterious woman walked forward and placed her hands on the stair railing.

      _"Ma peche? L'oiseau errant ç'ici!"_

Isiah's brows raised at the nickname she gave them. Moments later, they heard the sound of hurried footsteps. A wild haired noblewoman stopped at the top of the stairs before looking down at Isiah.

     "Oh, thank the Maker!" She raced down towards them before hopping the last two stairs. She closed the space between them and held out her hands. "Deliver it to me, please!"

     Isiah stared at the smaller woman and took a slight step back. "First, I want to know why the creature knew my name."

     The woman curled her fingers. "It did?"

     "The thing about beings from the Fade is that they only focus on what is fed to them. And you, Madamemoiselle, have sent me on a tangled quest just to lead me back... here." They pointed at the ground slowly. "Back to a creature that knows who I am." Gallante looked over her shoulder to her partner. Isiah sighed and reached up for their mask. "I don't care what you two are getting into, but do leave me out of it. I've enough problems here in Orlais without this."

     The fisherwoman raised her brows, and Gallante looked back to Isiah. "... Can we have it?"

     Isiah sighed heavily. "Were you not listening?"

     She crossed the space between them and uncurled her fingers once again. "I’m sorry. Yes, I was. I’m just... so relieved that this is here again. Please, Isiah... _May_  we have it?"

The Masqrader stared at her before smiling cattishly. They slid the mask over their face once again and opened up a pouch to take out the beaded snood. They dropped the accessory in the woman's hands. When she curled her fingers around it, Isiah stepped into her space again. They learned forward, and her eyes met the polished exterior of their mask.

     "Be careful, milady, of who you drag into danger." The fisherwoman stepped up, and Isiah snapped their head over towards her. Without saying anything, they began backing out of the home. "I'll be in town for a couple of days. So, do watch your step."

A horrid scratching sounded behind them. The crates and barrels on the porch slid into place behind them. Gallante's partner's eyes were glowing, and she had a harsh smile on her face. Gallante moved closer to Isiah.

     "It's you, my little bird, that should be watching their step~"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided that I would post about my OCs here because, hey, why not. I've been wanting to for years, and now I'm just gonna go ahead and do it~ I've a tonne of information on Isiah, so I want to share their lore. There will absolutely be more posts about Isiah in the future.
> 
> Mostly just me crossposting from tumblr, but even still, I want to share what I made~ (… and by that, I mean properly archive it.)


	2. Chapter 2

 

Isiah could sense the magic before they saw it. In their unconscious state, it tickled the tangled portions of their mind—the bits of them that were shaped by rigorous indoctrination, the parts of them that were Fade-scarred and always, _always_ aware. The magic in the air was coaxing them into wakefulness. Their eyelids fluttered and lifted. Their eyes focused on the dusty dimness of the attic around them. It took a moment for their vision o focus. The mademoiselle was standing across from them with her back turned. Her hands were moving, her words were buzzing, and magic was shaping to her will. Now that Isiah was awake, their stomach was lurching from the sulfuric scent of the Fade being improperly stretched across the mortal veil. They tried to lift their arm, but their arms were bound behind their back, tied tight enough to keep them from being too fancy. They looked up at the ceiling, rolled their right shoulder, and shifted their hands. They twisted their wrists painfully against the rope, but they’ve felt worse — they’ve _endured_ worse even a couple of years back. They cupped their left hand in their right and pressed their left thumb under their rope bonds.

Magic rippled over their body like a chill. Sulfur and mint stung their nose, their throat, their insides as the magic rushed in and around them until it focused down on the central point they were creating with their hands. But then, there was a profound silence in the room. Isiah blinked as if in a daze and put on a matching smile. They felt Gallante move before she actually did. She whipped around towards them like a doll and stared as if she was having a hard time seeing them. When she blinked, sense and consciousness filled her instantly. Isiah hummed up at her in greeting.

_“Bon nuit, mademoiselle.”_

_“Ah, ouais, bon nuit.”_ She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, which was slipping over her face in a wild cloud. She blinked at Isiah and really took them in. The laughter that followed was brittle. Manic.

Isiah felt a kinship with that laugh, but with who it was coming from, they felt no closeness or warmth. They dug their nails into their hand, channeling the energy they siphoned from the air. There was a little left, but in the deadness, she would be able to tell if they weren’t careful. Careful, _careful_. The word chanted in their mind in Hawke’s voice. They were _never_ careful on most days, but this time was different. They sighed through parted lips.

“Oh, wild bird. You’re so dear to me.” Gallante filled the space with quick, light steps. She dropped before them and extended her hands. On instinct, Isiah spread out their fingers just as hers touched their face. Dozens of pinpricks came in contact with their skin, and they felt the somehow non-invasive suction of their life force draw into her hands. It was like plucking cobwebs from their chin. Isiah turned their head one way, and she tried to force it back the other. “Wild bird! You’re still resisting me. Didn’t you hear that you were dear?”

“And what do you want, mademoiselle? Aren’t I more precious to you alive and healthy?”

 _“Non_. _”_ She laughed in an airy, frantic way. “No, no, _no_! You are useful to me in whatever way that can be managed.” She pressed her thumbs to the corners of their mouth and then drew away before Isiah gave into the sudden impulse to bite her. They smiled instead.

There was something off about her. Obviously, yes, but this was something more nuanced. This went past the obvious state of her mental health. There was something off about the _structure_ of her, about the way she held herself and used her magic. The faint smell of it was enough to convince them, but of what specifically, they weren’t sure. Yet. Heavy footsteps thudded up unseen stairs, and Isiah went back to their task of funneling magic. Magic twisted around their wrists like magic bands, sending a charge up through their arms to the golden plate hanging around their neck. They took in a deep breath as their neck grew warm. A new target came to their mind, and they focused as the fisherwoman — fishermage (Isiah had a quiet laugh) — finally showed up. She looked over at Isiah as their eyes glossed over. They began channeling their magic in small bursts to a target far away from them. Because of this, however, they were unable to focus on what was happening around them for very long. The mademoiselle and the mage’s conversation drifted in and out as Isiah flitted between consciousnesses.

_“—almost there…”_

_“We’ve made our sacrifices—“_

_“If not now— we can’t just—“_

_“Overruled, so long as we have the bi—“_

_“—my resurrection.”_

Resurrection? Isiah forced themself back into the moment and whistled sharply for the other two’s attention. “Resurrection~? Does this mean you’ll have a party?”

“Aah, wild bird. I was wondering when you would come to. Is the magic suffocating you?” the fisherwoman asked.

Isiah longed to cross their arms, but instead, they just settled for a shrug. They let their eyes fall closed, and in that brief moment, they sent another charge of energy. When they opened their eyes, Gallante was looking at them. For now, it was best to stave off. Hopefully, they accomplished their mission. They licked their lips.

“Well?” they prodded, focusing their attention on Gallante.

She shook with wakefulness again. Her cheeks seemed rosier, but her eyes were lost. Her gaze was set slightly higher than them as though she was seeing something they couldn’t. Or perhaps as though she couldn’t see at all.

“Yes…” Her voice was thin and airy. She clutched a broken bit of a staff in her hand and rubbed her thumb over the shining bulb. “Yes. Oh _yes_ , you are our special guest.”

“Shall we prepare?” the mage asked, standing more upright.

“Yes.” Gallant spun around then and focused on her task. Isiah looked to her and was met with her back, but they could see that she was standing in front of a cluttered table. “For what else do we have to wait?”

“Nothing.” The mage spoke with a grin, sharp and unfitting of her face. She looked to Isiah and crossed the room to them. “Come, our little bird. We’ve something for you.”

Isiah untwined their hands and allowed themself to be pulled up to their feet. They had precious seconds to look for important details in the room. Cluttered shelves, dusty shelves, cramped spaces with boxes and discarded bottles. But to Gallante’s right, there was a mannequin with all the accessories and baubles that Isiah had brought on their sporadic missions. How could they have missed this? With the twisting and the turning and the oddness of Gallante’s person, it wasn’t too surprising that their attention was focused elsewhere.

Still, they chuckled dryly. The realisation hit them full force. Resurrection. They were the errand boy for a resurrection. Her unraveling was never evident to them as they never took the chance to stay around for too long, but by the gods, it always happened this way, didn't it? Those insignificant trinkets they searched around for had some value after all. Isiah thought it was sentimental, but now, there was something far more magical at work.

While magic on their mind, the mage began to use hers. It coursed through Isiah’s veins like a curse, debilitating them for a moment, and Gallante took in a deep breath as the air around them all thickened. Isiah thought to take a chance, a foolish chance, to bend the magic in the air to their will, but their blood was screaming and there was a tightness in their lungs and—

 **BAM**! Their body was slammed down without a hint of care against the cluttered table, jostling whatever knick-knacks sat upon it. Gallant gasped and wiggled the fingers of her free hand in the air. She still had sight unseeing, but when she looked down at them, there was a sickening blue-green light in her eyes. She clasped the broken staff like a dagger. The source of the light was coming from underneath Isiah’s body, and they felt the small torrent of magic turning under their chest. The Fade… The Fade called and gurgled and churned uneasily under their body, in their head, in their blood — and _oh!_ How their blood was still screaming from where the mage was touching them.

But, the mage that she was using was different from blood magic. Isiah wasn't overly familiar with the practice, but they had their run-ins with it. So, if this woman wasn’t a blood mage, then—

“Die,” whispered Gallante almost reverently, breaking Isiah from their thinking, “and in your blood shall come my new age.” She smiled brightly and focused her eyes down on them. “And in this age, I—“

The house shook as thunder cracked through the air. The wood trembled down to the very foundations, and another wave of thunder passed over them again. And through them. Isiah recognised this familiar magic the moment it rattled their brain. The mage’s hand weakened its hold. Isiah lifted up their leg, kicking the mage wherever they could strike, and they threw their body backwards to throw her off balance. They spun on their heel and ran for the door. It was all they could do for now. Their main mission was to meet up with Eileu, who had to be close by. They made it to the attic door just in time for it to slam closed behind them. They let out a victorious laugh. The mage was too late to catch them! This bought them fleeting seconds but seconds nonetheless.

Isiah tore down the stairs, leaning their weight precariously against the wall and then throwing it forward to maintain their balance. There were still boxes up against the front door. Thinking quickly, they turned to the left, twisting around the stairs towards the modest kitchen. There were a number of windows here where they could be seen. They saw the torrent of energy a house’s length away from where they were.

“Here!” they shouted automatically with a grin and began jumping and moving to make themself seen. They figured it was a success when the glowing staff turned in a careful rotation and as the wind began to howl. The magic drew back and then slammed forward again. Isiah had moments to turn their body away from the windows as shards of glass blasted towards them. Thunder ripped through the house, and a blinding light consumed everything for a second. Above, they could hear yelling and screaming about a fire. A fire? They’d figure they’d have to worry about that one later. Eileu swept in, carried on their own wind, and landed with ease.

Isiah turned towards the Qunari with a grin, and they stared back flatly. Isiah took quick stock of Eileu. Everything was in order, but they noticed that their hat was wound up against Eileu’s side, held in place with ripped cloth.

“You’re an odd one, you know that?” Eileu huffed.

“Yes, yes. Admonish me later. Untie my hands.”

“Where are your things?” Eileu asked, reaching for a small dagger hidden on the other side of them.

“Somewhere,” Isiah emphasized, shaking out their hands once they were free. “For now, we’ve problems awaiting us upstairs.”

As soon as they spoke, the stairs cracked and splintered as the fisherwoman made her way downstairs. Her steps were unreasonably heavy, and the air was choked with the Fade. Eileu made a face.

“A fishermage,” Isiah announced proudly as they rubbed their wrists, “and a very powerful one at that.”

“And what discipline does this mage have?”

“Not sure!” Isiah said, looking around for anything to make an offense with. “But, I’m sure we’ll find out.”

“Ah.” Eileu twisted their staff and slammed it down against the ground. Lightning filled the room for a second. “Just lovely.”

Isiah jumped backwards and raided the various drawers for any assortment of knives. They found a few, and it was just enough to prepare them for the duo coming down the crumbling stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

The air burned with sulfur and ozone. Time passed with every clash of magic, with every blinding strike of Eileu's lightning. Unfortunately in the way of space, it was a contained war. Eileu and Isiah held their position in the kitchen; though, Isiah wasn't much help, save throwing cutlery and cookware. They could duck and cause a distraction, but their Qunari companion was the one truly carrying the weight of this battle. Eileu stood proud in the center of the kitchen as they beckoned maelstroms to their aid. The fisherwoman unleashed a spiral of sickening green energy, and Eileu twined their hand in the air, and a protective shield of wind drew up in front of their body. The magic reflected. Isiah turned away from where the magic collided, feeling bits of the wall break against their shoulder. Their stomach churned uneasily with the ever-present stink of the Fade around them. They coughed and staggered away from where the magic struck. Blindly, they moved closer towards Eileu. 

Thunder rumbled, and wind wrapped defensively around Isiah. They quickly gathered their wits, pushing down their sickness. Eileu twisted their weapon as if dancing. Rain water kicked up around their feet, and Isiah took a step back to give Eileu space. The Qunari spun around and slung a ball of lightning and blue energy at the fisherwoman. She screamed, torn by pain. Her muscles constricted, and her fingers curled in place. Eileu snapped their attention over towards Isiah. "Go!" they shouted.

Isiah didn't waste a single moment. They rushed forward, splashing up water as they went. The electric current flowing through the water was dull near Eileu, but it became stronger the closer Isiah came towards the fisherwoman. She opened an eye and looked at them with hate in her eyes. Even in pain, she whipped out her hand to retaliate, but Isiah was faster than her. They slid forward under her arm, peering up at her mutated form as her magic unleashed over their head. She still mostly herself, but there were thick veins running along her arms. There was a sick green glow in her eyes as well. Parts of her arms and legs were thick and unnatural, but Isiah wasn't going to stick around and observe her for much longer. They ended up behind her and scrambled to her feet. 

They reached out for the stair rail and hurried up the stairs without a moment's thought. Parts of the stairs were collapsed inward, and the door leading to the attic was closed. Bright green light emitted from the cracks. Isiah rushed towards it, holding their breath as they neared. They didn't bother to try the knob. Instead, they used their momentum to throw their body against the door. It cracked like lightning and gave under their body, knocking the breath from Isiah's body in surprise. Gallante jolted in her spot. She focused on Isiah, but her incantation tumbled from her lips with mindless repetition. Isiah straightened up enough to take in their surroundings. Baubles and accessories she had Isiah gather lay spread on the once cluttered table. Each piece was neatly arranged in the shape of a person, and at the very head was one of Isiah's masks.

The other, to their horror, was on her face.

Seeing this, true and genuine fear spiked through Isiah's body. Gallante ignored this; she opened out her hand and bent her fingers oddly as she coaxed open a portal from the Fade. Isiah shuddered and ran forward. Tackling her was easy. In spite of everything, she wasn't a woman made for combat. If she were, she would've been downstairs helping her partner in the fight. She was knocked off her feet quickly, and her head hit the corner of one of the large crates lined against the wall. Her pained groan echoed inside the mask, but it resonated more than Isiah's ever did. They scrambled back, not wanting to touch her for long. Their mask… they needed to take that off of her. They reached for it, but Gallante's head whipped towards them with unnerving speed as if she didn't just crack her head. Isiah jerked back and laughed shakily.

     "So is that what others see when they deal with me?" They jumped to their feet and reached blindly for the mask on the table. "Good to know that it's so effective."

They grabbed the mask and hooked it onto their hand with a practiced flick of their hand. They looked over to the portal. Since Gallante wasn't concentrating on it, the magic was fading. It was odd. The rift wasn't as permanent as Isiah was used to seeing it. They stopped thinking about it—or rather, it was best to say they couldn't think about it for long. The stench attached to the back of their mask was distracting. It smelled like dead bodies and cold air. Or maybe even a mix of bad breath and blood diluted in water. It was hard to pinpoint the smell, but they knew it all too well. It took all of their training to not fling the item off their head. Gallante picked herself up delicately like a doll coming to life; she kept her attention focused solely on Isiah. Once she was standing, she canted her head slowly to the side.

And then, without warning, she lunged.

Isiah jumped back and dodged out of her way. She wasn’t agile wasn't nearly as agile as they were. She hadn't trained to be a fighter, but she knew the movements of combat. She tried to imitate it with thoughtless movements. At one point, her fingers grazed along Isiah’s arm, and there was that bloodcurdling drain once again. Isiah even felt their very breath leave their body; they jerked out of her reach. Gallante and that fishermage — they had some kind of twisted contract with the Fade. But, that was something for Isiah to think about some other time. They slumped backward with an unnatural flop and kicked their foot forward into Gallante's chest. She staggered backwards into a wall and collapsed onto the floor again. This time, her body fell to the ground more heavily. Isiah stared at her blankly, waiting for her to move again. When she didn't move, they balanced on their hands before flipping into an upright position.

They needed to get her out of the room, no matter how long it was. They looked around for a moment and grabbed a length of rope from off the floor. They sighed and tightened their grip over the rope. Upon hearing a ragged sigh, they turned and saw Gallante standing again. She gave a raspy sigh as she stared at them. She may not have been a fighter, but she was hearty. Maybe it was because of the Fade. Isiah side glanced over towards the small Fade clinging to conjured life over the table. Gallante's sigh cut through the air once more, and she came at them again.

     Isiah snapped the rope and focused on her. "This may hurt, Gallante, but such is the way of battle."

 

Eileu grit their teeth as the fishing spear cracked against their staff. This ‘fishermage’, as Isiah had called her, was a beast. Her magic was abominable, and she was a living example as to why those who dutifully followed the Qun hated mages. Cursed them, even. They shoved her back both their physical and magical forces and spun their staff over their head. The fishermage glared at them; the whites of her eyes were tinted green now. The veins pressing against the surface of her skin were thick and sickly; her skin had rotten patches. And the very presence of her was… _unsettling_. They parried one of her strikes and dodged a forward stab.

 _‘Come on, Isiah,’_ they thought as they knocked their back against the kitchen counter. _‘Where are you!’_

The fishermage took a step back and aimed her hand outward. Necrotic shadows spun around at Eileu’s heels. Without thinking, the Qunari reached back and pulled themself up onto the counter. The shadows whipped inward and turned into a spike-like trap. Eileu jutted their hand forward and sent a wave of freezing rain towards their opponent. She seized up from the assaulting rain, and Eileu began to lower the temperature with an extension of their will. They watched as the fishermage jerked and spasmed where she stood. Her head shot forward; she quirked her fingers in odd patterns, and shadows crawled up her body. In no time at all, she shook off the ice trap Eileu was binding her in. Eileu watched in shock. When the shadows faded and her convulsing stopped, dread filled Eileu immediately. They dropped down to their feet once again and curled their hands protectively around their staff. Before they could retaliate—

"Ooooh, _fish-er-maaage~_ " came Isiah's worryingly singsong voice. Eileu felt relief and agitation in equal shades. When their opponent looked away from them, Eileu had a moment to roll their eyes before looking towards the stairs. There was the sound of heavy thudding coming downstairs. For a moment, Eileu thought it was easier, but no sooner had the thought crossed their mind did they see a tied up form rolling down. The woman grunted and cried out with every stair she hit until her body came to the floor. The fishermage completely ignored Eileu at this point and ran for the other woman instead. More things fell from the upstairs area—a book, a broken rack, and some knick knacks. Eileu watched the two women, wishing but not daring to move and see what was happening upstairs.

     “Still alive, Eileu?”

     “Surprisingly,” they called back. Their voice was calm, but their body was tightly wound. Every nerve was frayed and alert.

     “Brilliant.” Silence fell. In that moment, Eileu calmed the storms they called; now, they could hear the women talking frantically.

     “Stop Isiah,” the bound woman said breathlessly as her bindings were loosened. “Worry not about me— stop them. They’re in the attic. Fix this.  _Please_.”

The fisherwoman looked up towards the stairs and _growled_. Eileu decided to move. They stepped closer to the staircase, twisted their staff in a figure eight, and slammed it down longways against the ground. The earth quaked, thunder growled, and lightning struck the middle of the staircase. The mutated mage stopped before she could even start. She flicked her head over towards Eileu, and her eyes were wide with fury. The Fade sickness crawled faster and higher up her skin. Her eyes began to glow with Fade energy. Eileu felt disgust settle in their stomach, but staring at her, they could only frown.

     "What matter of beast is this?" they muttered as they stood to their full height.

They looked to the woman partially freed from her bonds. She was furiously fighting against the rope now. Eileu cast a prayer to the deaf heavens and sent a spell her way, even as her Fade touched partner advanced upon them.

 

There had been something cathartic about throwing Gallante down the stairs. A little smile curved on Isiah's lips. But after checking up on Eileu, Isiah was quick to retreat into the attic once again. They let out a deep breath. It smelled foul up here. The Fade sullied everything it touched. It wasn't meant to cross the veil like this. It was a plane that needed to remain separate from the living world. Nothing good came of it. In the back of their mind, they remembered the venom Fenris spat about magic fouling everything it touched. Isiah shook their head. No… The Fade was truly a sickness for which there was no cure. They stepped forward.

Bits of porcelain were scattered in the center of the room. Isiah stared down at it with a soft frown. A fragment of smooth lips and a perfectly sculpted nose were the most discernible features that remained. Isiah crushed them under their boot. Taking a deep breath, they felt assured that the mask was well and truly useless now. There was no hope of putting it back together again. They'd have to make another in the future, but that was a worry for another time. They licked their lips and quickly scoured the room for any spell books. Something had to be here. Some notes or journals or any trace of what she’s been up to.

They found letters — love letters — all so personally and dutifully written. Those were cast aside. They found sheets of parchment with nonsensical words scribbled all over, and the sight, for some reason, made their heart ache. Those were cast aside as well. “Gallante,” they muttered, “for this stupid incantation, you had to put something aside. Where is it? Where is your secret?” Thunder roared in the house, and it made Isiah jump more than once. Where was it? Where was her spell book? Where was the source of her sickening power…?

 _Here…_  

Something called out to them, and they halted in place, wondering if it was the portal speaking. Had something crawled out because the rift wasn’t entirely closed? They refrained from bitterly laughing. If only they had brought the Inquisitor. _Here…_  the voice whispered again, this time an insistent hiss, and Isiah felt a tug from within. Their skin crawled as they followed this deeper instinct. Was it the Fade calling to them? Directing them? Would they lose their mind standing up here? Their heart began to race at the thought as they walked backwards. They turned around and faced the windowed recess in the wall. They let their eyes adjust to the odd lighting and harsh shadows in this space. There, off to the left side… They could barely make it out the odd chipping in the wall and went for it. Without their claws, they had to break the wall with their fists and feet. Blood and pain rushed to their knuckles, but they ignored it. Oh, how they’ve endured much worse than this.

As soon as the wall collapsed, they saw a small cache of what they needed: a book, a portrait, and old, grave rotten clothes sitting in a plush chair. The smell almost made Isiah gag. The clothes were igniting something in their mind. They covered their nose, snatched up the book, and took a few steps back. They stared at the journal as they made their way to the table. Flipping through, they saw Orlesian and Elvhen mixed together. There was Tevene on some pages and several pages of nondescript language written jaggedly all over the place. Nothing meant anything to Isiah. From what they could read, it was all loose thoughts and disconnected stanzas of spells.

It was their mistake to be so close to the rift as they read through the spells. The word _“feed”_ began to repeat in their mind, in many voices, with many feelings. They flipped through the pages with growing urgency. The age old scars of their Masqrader “training” began to open up in the back of their mind. They scanned the pages as though lost in an obsession, their better senses leaving them rapidly.

 **ISIAH**.

Their name echoed like a storm. They jerked backwards into an upright position, shoving away the book thoughtlessly. Their hands were shaking incessantly, and they turned their head toward the door. Gallante was there with the rope hanging loosely off her body. Her breathing was heavy; her body was wet— more than likely from the storms that Eileu conjured. The two of them stared quietly at each other, stricken by the moment. After a moment, Gallante took shaky steps forward, and Isiah did the same, except they were faster than her. They grabbed the book and slammed it closed. Voices from the Fade whispered in their ears, and Gallante smiled kindly at them.

     “Wild bird… You don’t like that, do you?” She took a step closer. “I remember… I remember what you said all those years ago.” She spoke to them softly as if consoling a child. “About the Fade,” she added helpfully.

     Isiah looked at her. “it’s been a while since you’ve been at the camp, both of us actually.” They scoffed a laugh. “How could you remember?”

     “But I do. I remember a lot of things.” She looked to the book, and Isiah tightened their fingers around it. “Do you know why I’m doing this?”

     “No, but I feel that there is much at stake here. Not just here in this town but for all of Orlais—”

     “Orlais?” She laughed. “What do you even care for Orlais? What do you care for about _any_ part of Thedas? You’re not even from here.”

     “It’s home,” Isiah said in a joking voice, though it had some truth to it. “And all homes should be cherished to a T — or some such.”

They looked down to the book. In the corner of their eye, they saw her marching towards them. Isiah closed their eyes and flicked the book upward into the Fade. They had a second to protect themself from any splash back their actions may have had. They felt the Fade rift flare to life. Otherworldly magic crawled along their skin.

And Gallante screamed.

She screamed and screamed until it turned into an inhuman _wail_ that echoed from downstairs. The attic shook. The Fade cried, and Isiah felt a cry crawling up from the stomach. It scratched like a hand against the back of their throat, rising like bile. And in the end, for a moment, there was darkness.

And silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing and improving this chapter was a _nightmare_ , but this is still my favourite chapter in the whole thing, if only because of how it ends~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> - _Cryaotic voice._ \- And so we finish it.

Isiah’s heart was racing. That was always a good thing, right?

Their body tingled with electric energy, and the first drag of air they took was a fiery pain in their lungs. There was the heavy iron taste of blood in their mouth. Well, there were certainly worse things than blood — at least they weren't dead. They could deal with this. It took a few moments before they got their bearings. When they were collected they realised that the light in the attic was brighter, less toxic green. Turning their head a bit, they saw a bright light emitting from Eileu's staff, which was hooked on an abandoned coat rack. Isiah chuckled weakly. It was always handy having a mage around to repel the darkness. With a groan, they sat up shakily. As they ducked their head forward, blood rushed to the front of their mouth and slipped out the right corner. They ignored it.

There were always worse things, worse people — Gallante and the fishermage, for example.

Gallante... Right, what happened to her? She was with them last when the darkness hit. Isiah briefly looked around and settled on an unsettling mass on the floor. Isiah sighed through their nose. Well... She was still here in a sense, just as an indescribable blob of bones and sludge. It was a shame, seeing her like this. Ever since she left the camp, Isiah wasn't sure what had become of her, but... did she make some kind of pact? Was she now some manner of Darkspawn or had her magicks and trickery reduced her to something  _questionably_ human? They didn't know what to think at the moment. They just thought it was a shame.

     “So, those creatures we fought… They’re gone entirely. Strange how they managed to live as they did. The world never fails to amazing me...”

Eileu's deep voice resonated in the silence of the attic, stirring Isiah from their thoughts. It took a moment, but Isiah eventually took their attention away from the mess on the floor. They looked to Eileu, who motioned towards the crates along the wall. 

     "And I found your things, by the way, while you were out."

     Isiah chuckled. "Th— Augh." Blood. Right. They swallowed what they could before tugging on their sleeve and wiping their mouth. "Thanks."

Isiah's voice was ragged, their throat raw. For a moment, they remembered the screaming. It scratched the inside of their mind insistently, but they forcibly pushed it out. When they spoke again, Eileu spoke up at the same time as they did:

     "What happened?"

Eileu spun around to look at Isiah, who only managed a pitiful smile. One of their most characteristic traits reduced now to a shadow of its former self. Eileu stayed focused on their companion for a moment before hesitantly turning back to what they were doing at the table. Isiah's brows went up out of curiosity. What was happening over there...? They could vaguely feel magic in the air, but when they tried to hone in on it, it made their very spirit sigh in exhaustion. Hm, so none of that, huh? Isiah placed their hands on the floor and stood up with a groan. They almost fell over. When they rose to their full height, they almost fell again. Eileu turned to face them, but Isiah thrust their hand up, throwing off the balance. It was a silent order, or plea, for Eileu to say where they were.

The mage did so with a tired look in their eyes. But with a blink, the look was gone, and they faced away again. Eileu continued speaking as if nothing was wrong.

     “As I was fighting the other mage, her body began to... change. It was clear from her disciplines that she was unordinary, but to watch her actually bulge and break in her current state was… Well, unnerving. I’ll say it like that.”

     “What happened to her?”

     “She began to bleed some viscous substance, and this odor left her body. And when I heard the screaming upstairs, I left the mage to her decay and ran up to where you were.” Eileu paused to think. They stared at a blank space on the wall and, after a moment, spoke again. “It was a horrific thing, watching that take place.”

     “Was I okay?” Isiah joked. A smile lifted their lips, but their words and the action all felt automatic.

     “... You were dead for a time. I can see that I was able to bring you back.”

     “Perfect.”

Dead for a time? Eileu brought them back..? Isiah briefly wondered if that would be worth bringing up with the Inquisitor. Probably not. Wouldn't want to bring unwanted attention upon the Qunari, but it would be interesting to bring up with the other mages. Maybe Isiah could get some information and just... secretly pass on the information. They'd think about it at least. For now, they were more worried about where their stuff was. They turned towards the crates. They didn't have to look very hard. Their personal effects were all stacked together neatly on a box. Their last mask, once missing, was there along with their gloves, pouches, and hidden weapons. Isiah briefly wondered where Gallante hid these things and how Eileu found them as they walked over, but all in all, they were glad to have their stuff back. Instead of redressing with their full armaments immediately, they placed their hands on top of the crate for balance. Their body was so weak compared to what it was before. Was this the price of being pulled from the dead? They huffed a disbelieving laugh. Too much has happened in the span of a night.

     “We should leave late tomorrow,” they offered. They needed the rest.

     Eileu briefly debated in silence before saying. “… That’s fine with me.” They picked up a book and walked towards Isiah. “I also found this.”

     “Found…”

Isiah’s words trailed off once the book was set down in front of them. It was plain leather as many journals were, but there were a few deep silver-blue stones set into its surface. They looked like eyes—or warts. Isiah wasn’t sure which they preferred. They flipped the book open with a heavy hand and read through its pages. More Tevene, more Elvhen, but the first few pages soon gave way to Orlesian. Now,  _that_  Isiah could read. They skimmed over sentences, just trying to get a feel of things. But as they continued, their skimming slowed to a normal reading pace, and they frowned.

     “What is it?” Eileu asked, watching their expression.

     “I’ll have to read this when we get back to the inn. Or to Skyhold.” Whichever proved safest for their mind to go to work. They closed the journal again. “I’m surprised you didn’t read it.”

     “I thought of doing so after searching for what I had to, but in the end, I got busy disabling the magic wards in this place.”

     “So, we can leave?”

     “In a bit. Just let me finish this much, and we'll be on our way.”

Isiah looked to the trinket still in Eileu's hand. It was a rusted bronze brooch with a marbled precious stone in the center. With a wave of Eileu's hand and a muttering of incantations, the brood turned into a dark, unpolished silver and, after a few seconds, cracked. Isiah pretended to look hurt by the loss as Eileu turned away.

     “That could have been precious,” they teased.

     “Could have been,” Eileu agreed. “Perhaps it once was, but for now, it has no use to us or to anyone else.”

Isiah huffed a laugh. Well, fair enough. They didn't try to argue that. That being said, what in the house would be considered valuable? There was furniture, yes, a few things to be salvaged... But overall, the attic was unholy territory, and the downstairs area was probably ruined from the fight. Isiah shook their shoulders. It wasn't really their problem though. After telling whoever was in charge here what happened, it would ultimately come down to the community to make their decision.

They began preparing for their departure, packing their pouches and hooking their mask into place on their sash belt. They'd have to make another mask to replace the one that Gallante defiled. Isiah winced and brought a hand up to their face. Sulfur and blood clotted their senses. They trembled slightly at first, but then it grew into a full body tremor. They wrapped their arms around themself.

 _'Stop,'_ they thought desperately. Their own voice was a shuddered whisper in their mind.  _'Make it stop.'_

The whisper built in repetition as the sulfur became a prevailing smell. The screams... They slowly returned to the forefront of Isiah's mind, and they felt lightheaded and weak. Almost as if they were going to pass o—

     "I'm curious about what happened." Eileu's voice was a welcoming shock. It was enough to draw Isiah out of their stupor. They reached for the crate again, gripping the edges for dear life as they fought to ground themself. Unaware, the Qunari continued, "But, I'm more curious as to how you did that trick with your hat."

 _'Trick?'_ Isiah thought, fumbling with their memories in the brief silence that followed. Their hat, their hat... They followed the train of thought until their shaking became a trivial issue. "Ah! The hat. It was a trick I learned a long time ago. Not too long after leaving my home in Kirkwall, actually. I took a last walk around the place. I met someone of interest as this place called..." Isiah trailed off and gave a sly smile. "Well, it doesn't matter what it was called. Point is I met a mage, an elf specifically, who was trying to procure some items before heading off on her own quest.

     "I recognised her as a neighbour while I lived in Lowtown and asked her what was her hurry. To cut to the quick, as there would be entirely too much to tell, she told me her tale as I was a trusted companion of the Champion. There was no way  _I_ would ever turn her into the Templars or anyone else who was helping her escape." Isiah chuckled. "How bold of her to assume my level of trust, but that's besides the point. Either way, I poked and prodded my way around her story and asked if there was anything of interest she was leaving behind. As is typical, she didn't have much, but she taught me a neat little trick. For non magic users, it needs to be facilitated with some sort of catalyst to work. But, well. What she doesn't know and all, right?"

     "I see," Eileu muttered. "You always bring up more questions than answers."

     "Such is my way in life. But had I not learned that, I never would have survived tonight."

     "You expected this to happen?"

     Isiah clicked their tongue, wagging a finger. "I expected  _something_ to happen, but not this. Never this.  _This_ was far beyond the scope of what I was willing to deal with tonight. I figured I would be ganged up on and beaten senseless when my usefulness was up, but... It appears she was dealing with forces far more complicated than I would have imagined."

     Eileu made a thoughtful noise. "She used Fade magic," they added, turning and watching Isiah closely. "Or at least attempted to. She had all the ingredients for a summoning ritual here."

     Isiah's expression went blank. They stared at the table near Eileu's hip as a cold feeling ran over them. "Yes," they said emptily. "Do you know exactly what she was up to?"

     "I suspect it would all be in that book I gave you, but in all honesty, I haven't given it much coherent thought. My mind is all over the place."

     "Mine too." Isiah tried for a smile. They weren't exactly sure what their face was doing though. They looked to the crate once more. All of their things were put away. They reached up to untie the bottom of their braid. They fingered their hair through the dark brown locks before pulling it all into a low ponytail. "Is there anything else worth seeing here?"

     "I've searched and found all that was necessary. I've a number of things to take back to Skyhold and examine, but there's nothing else of worth here anymore."

     "Then we're done."

With a show of energy they didn't really have, they pushed off the crate and turned around. They went to pick up their last mask from the floor. They didn't remember taking it off. Perhaps Eileu did it upon finding them on the floor. Isiah hesitated before hooking it in place on their sash belt as well. Two new masks... They didn't really have the materials for two, and they honestly felt a little... reluctant to go out and make them so soon. Perhaps they had one in their hideaway somewhere? 

Eileu moved away from the desk and went to unhook their staff from the rack.

     "Onward?" Isiah offered when Eileu met their eyes.

Eileu nodded. They raised their staff. There was a rumble from high above that echoed closer and closer until it was over their heads. Then, with a surprising suddenness, there was a crack of lightening behind them. Isiah startled in place, unaware of the smirk on Eileu's face. The Masqrader turned and saw that the desk was utterly ruined by the strike. A sense of relief filled Isiah then. 

_'Well, that absolutely takes care of that...'_

     "Onward," Eileu said out loud, and then with an extension of their will, the light went out.

 

After heading to the inn, Isiah and Eileu were grateful for a night of rest. They woke up late in the morning, bordering on early afternoon. They ate before heading out. After informing Val Chevin that their local terrors were put to rest, Isiah was eager to hit the road again. They liked traveling midday anyway. It wasn’t that it was inherently more relaxing to them, it was that the world was so much more alive then. All manner of man and beast were running around, cutting their paths through life and often caring little for the attention of others. Isiah breathed in the hot air and baked under the sun, but they felt at peace. Their skin was their own again, even though their nightmares would beg the contrary. Throughout their travel, they felt Eileu’s eyes on them. Many times, they caught the mage’s gaze, but they stared unapologetically.

     “Is something the matter?” Isiah finally asked at their final camping place.

     “I think to ask you the same thing. You’re just off. You lack the same energy. You even fight pests differently.”

     “Do I?” Isiah poked at the cooking meat and shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps there is a lot on my mind.”

     “And you haven’t had a chance to read the journal yet?”

     “No.” They looked to Eileu and said with a promise, “but soon.”

They did think about the book. It plagued their mind as they headed back into town. They only pulled it out once from their saddlebag, but they didn't flip through the pages. There was... an odd feeling about it. They weren't sure what it was. And there were so many languages here that they couldn't speak or couldn't read well enough. After going through everything they could parse, they'd have to ask Dorian, perhaps, about what the Tevene said. And who could read Elvhen? Ah, well. There were a number of options, but these were things for them to think about later.

Isiah scratched their head desperately, wishing for anything or anyone else to think of, but they knew the book would consume their thoughts until "later", whenever that may come. Eileu was merciful enough to stop their staring, but every now and again, Isiah could feel the heavy gaze of their Qunari companion.

 

     “Inquisitor!” Eileu greeted when they and Isiah trotted back up into Skyhold. The Inquisitor turned and stared at the two expectantly. Isiah gave a half-hearted smirk and rode past the Herald without another word. The Inquisitor watched before grabbing Eileu’s attention when they hopped down from their mount.

     “So? How did it go?” The Inquisitor whispered, pressing closer to the Qunari's side.

     “It was…” Eileu searched for a word. They glanced up at the early morning sky. By the gods, it was early. Too early. They wanted to rest. “It was… something. A time. Intriguing, absolutely.”

     “I’d hate to ask, but when it comes to Isiah, I can’t help it. What was it, this matter of business they had to attend to?”

     “You know, I don’t know. I was there to accompany and assist, and even on the larger things, I had no idea what I was dealing with.” It was true on the whole. Even now, they had unanswered questions, and they were starting to think it was the norm. “But whatever pieces they had to put together are finally in place. The matter has been settled, and it won’t fall back on Skyhold in any way. Any _negative_ way, that is.”

     The Herald nodded. They seemed unconvinced. By the words or by what news they were given, Eileu was unsure, but they sighed in resignation anyway. “Are you sure of that?”

     “The perpetrator, that is Isiah’s focus, has been dealt with cleanly. Or as cleanly as can be. If anything comes out of this, I expect praises of some sort.” With that, Eileu held their reigns of their steed and guided it towards the stables. “If you want anything else, I suggest you consult with Isiah. Though, I’ve a feeling they’ll come to you anyway.”

     The Inquisitor watched as Eileu left too. They brought a hand against their forehead and scratched over their hairline. “Hmm… I hope so…”

Isiah, in the meanwhile, had gone up to their hiding place. They took their stairs towards the rookery, diverted off towards the stone bridge, and kept climbing until they found themself in the little nook they created in the rafters. They unhooked their sash belt and hung it up overhead, further out of sight, before crawling up in the nest of bedsheets and various pillows. They stared up at where the book had been secured on their sash. The thought of it ate away at Isiah’s mind until they were too tired to keep track and fell asleep.

Their dreams lacked definite shape. Instead, their mind was threaded with voices, screaming and begging and lying and laughing. Noises that buried deep into Isiah’s subconscious and came out in a laugh that was as bitter and maddening as the dreams of their young adulthood. When they woke, they didn’t feel rested, but they weren’t exhausted anymore. So... that was a plus in their book.

Isiah uncurled and stretched before standing up to reach into the higher structure of the rooftop. They grabbed their sash and untied the journal from within. They flipped through pages they couldn’t parse. Whatever Tevene they learned had been from Fenris, and even then, it wasn’t a subject they often touched. Orlesian, on the other hand— Ah, it was as welcome to their eyes as any other sight at Skyhold. Without thinking, they began skimming until they were at the same place they were before in the attic.

The immediate passage read:

_I know it… I was a noble of some sort, irresponsibly thrown from my throne, but it’s not that that I want. I don’t want the throne, per say. I want the respect again. I want to show all of those that hated me that I cannot simply lay dead. It’s odd hearing my own voice from the Fade. Is this what They tried to teach so many years ago? I could never be one of Them with masks on their faces. But had I known there was a piece of me already resting across the veil, perhaps I could have tried. I have the one Isiah on a leash. They’ll be the key to all of this._

Isiah scoffed. What were the odds that they would have had someone from their initial camp trying to chase this backwards dream? Many odd things happened over the course of their life, but they never would have thought that someone would be willingly trying to mess with the Fade but keep it so hidden. Maybe they just never thought it would hit them so directly? Whatever they were thinking, it was clearly wrong. The next passage said:

 _Now that I think about it. I do want my throne. I want my throne to be a platform so I can raise those improper dead and give them the voice they so deserve. We’ll flood this world with understanding and recognition. I will be their sole judge. We aim to reshape Orlais into the great kingdom it ought to be. It is great now, yes, but under my patronage with my holy nobility at the front, it will be great again._ _A kingdom for the undying. A necropolis if you will. There will be no barrier to entry. Only righteousness. Only justice._

It was… painfully typical to a point. Isiah went backwards, carefully reading the pages to make sure there wasn’t something they were missing. Between the pages that bleed from Tevene to Elvhen, they found this:

_Every time I look at the name Patricia Aubrastock, I feel a pang. Was this me? Well and truly me? How could I be killed not so long ago and be here again? Is my will that strong to live? I feel as if what I’m taking from these memories is some kind of Thedas-wide retribution. Maybe I just long for home again. I am here in Val Chevin because to her, it’s home. To me, it’s just a place. But the whispers… The whispers say this. I beg of you, Lady Patricia, please give me some sense. If you and I are one and the same, guide me then._

A little more on, Isiah found:

_I found them. Isiah. They can bring me things. I was in Val Royeaux by chance, and I saw them with an emissary. I didn’t ask, but I listened to the murmurs. ‘Inquisition’ came up numerous times, and to think, a masked bandit of skill being paired with the Inquisition? Unreal. No— it’s perfect. I need things that Patricia might have worn or had, but her legacy is scattered all over. If Isiah is with the Inquisition, then it will be easy to gather what I need from them. They’ve the resources, yes? Were they at a camp, it’d be harder to convince them. No, no. This is perfect. I cannot draw the attention of the Inquisition, but Isiah alone should be enough. Yes... We are from the same wretched, twisted soil. Perhaps I can appeal to them. I can't afford to rot a second time. She... I... We will never die again._

Pushing forward again, Isiah read passages that flipped back and forth between Gallante’s skepticism and her absolute bend to this Lady Patricia’s will. It was hard to say if it was a demon or if she was, in fact, tapping upon a past life. _Isiah…_ Their own name beckoned them from the back of their mind in a haunting whisper. The Fade scars scratched inside of them had reopened. They willed them to close, but it would take more than will. Oh, Maker. They’d need to leave again. Seeking out aid shouldn’t take long, but they’d need to leave silently and as quickly as possible. Isiah sank back into their comfortable nest. The residual warmth of their body heat was quickly leaving. They didn’t mind too much. The cold was grounding to them. They stared out the little window they made by removing some wood and bricks.

In many a sense, Skyhold was the perfect place for them to be. It brought them many an opportunity to come fast to face with their past life, with who they were before Kirkwall. Where they back amongst their peers, the chances of them going back to Orlais would have been little to none. However, being in Skyhold put them in a position to close some past wounds. To right a growing evil, even though it wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, their "duty". They had complicated feelings towards what happened with Gallante, but perhaps this was a sign. Perhaps they were meant to use their current resources to pin down their own bouts of mania and correct them.

Maybe they were here to heal and pass that healing onto others. Hell, if they used their connections better, they could do so many things to better the lives of others back at the camps. But to do that, they would have to... open up more, reveal parts of their wicked history. Make more of themself less an anomaly.

Isiah sighed deeply. There was so much to think about, and right now, this wasn't the time. Not while they were still in Skyhold. They truly needed to go and take a breather. Surely, they wouldn't be needed for anything. The book closed with a satisfying _fwump_. Isiah would leave, seek treatment, and come back once again. By then, they'd have made up their mind about whether or not they would share a piece of their hidden, Fade-touched world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie; I thought I posted this already. This has been in draft mode since July 8th. Man, I am.... slipping. My mind has been somewhere else these days.


End file.
